The Dozen and Ranma's Five
by suzume copper
Summary: An ancient prophecy about twelve vicious ghosts who would destroy Tokyo is about to happen. An old dojo master has seen this in his dream and has obtained clues on how to stop it through an old journal. Five warriors are needed to stop this disaster.


THE RANMA FANFICTION

TITLE: RANMA'S FIVE

PROLOGUE

It was a rainy night, inside the dojo of the Ancient Samurais, the old man turned the crispy pages of an old diary, careful not to tear them. Feeling hot from the heat, he slightly pushed the burning lamp, his only source of light, away from the him. It took him six hours to search for books or any device that would help him in searching for the truth. He ended up pulling a journal out from the molten shelves. He took the journal and some other things he thought migh be helpful and piled them up on his desk. He worked on them nervously but still hoping that the dream he had the last night isn't really going to happen.

"A disaster…" he whispered. He dreamed that Tokyo would be haunted by the Twelve Ghosts of the Legendary Samurais. He sighed.

He turned page by page, searching for clues. Then he gasped. The journal talked about the Legendary Samurais! The Twelve Samurais who died very long ago! The same samurais that he dreamed about the last night he slept. He turned the book to its cover and the old man read the name engraved on its golden cover. "Izumi Takushi. He sounded so familiar…"

He thought for a bit, trying to search his memories of how he knew the name. Seconds after, he erased the thought and went back to the journal.

He started reading:

"General Matsioka told the Eleven to stay awake. I was told to go back to the camp and sleep. I was so mad. They left me out…"

The old man paused. Eleven? But there were twelve samurais. Who was the last one?

He read on:

"But I decided to stay awake with them. I hid myself behind the tree trunks. It was not cozy but at least I can still watch and guard with them. I can still be one of the top samurais. I could be the Thirteenth Samurai. It's just this time, they don't realize that. I wonder why the General never made me join these eleven warriors. The General wanted the complete Dozen, but my brother quit just to be with his lover. I told the General that I am capable of being a top samurai and that I can replace my brother to complete the Dozen. But General didn't let me. The Dozen is complete. It's just damaged."

The old man stopped. Damaged? He thought.

He skipped some pages and found a very short entry. It was written differently, like the writer was shaking as he wrote it down. He read on.

"The Second General is hiding with us. The Eleven Samurais and the General are being attacked by five vicious warriors. I think these warriors are rebels. They have plows and spears as weapons. But they are strong. I just heard Goro-san scream. I think the farmers cut off his leg. He kept shouting about it. The General gave out orders. We are not to go out and fight the rebels. The Dozen will take care of them. I was glad. So glad. Those five rebels are frightens me. Where is my brother anyway? How wicked of him to run off somewhere when there's a big disaster in our camp? Why are the Eleven screaming so loud?"

There was a loud sound from behind him. As if something very heavy fell on the floor. He jumped on his seat, startled. He ran to the source of the sound and only found a large sack that just fell down from the decaying shelf. He sighed and started to go back to his seat.

He was just about ten inches to his seat when suddenly there were pictures that continously registered on his mind. This made him freeze for five seconds. When his mind calmed from the shock of pictures he have seen, he quickly realized that he has to read the rest of the journal. He has to know what happened next to the remaining Eleven.

But before him, lay a journal on fire! The lamp was lying on the desk, and papers are bursting into flames. The old man quickly pulled his sash and tried to put the flames out.

The flames died seconds later. The dojo master leaned over and gathered what is left of the journal. The last entry pages were badly charred. The old man brushed away ashes hoping to see even a spared portion of the last entry. He only found a small portion of a page. He read the words.

He closed his eyes and nodded as he whispered what he just read.

"Five warriors…they are enough to kill the Dozen."


End file.
